


Pausing to Exhale

by toomuchplor



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-28
Updated: 2007-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomuchplor/pseuds/toomuchplor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Rodney's workaholic periods, spanning days or even stimulant-assisted weeks, are counterbalanced by equally impressive periods of utter inactivity.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Pausing to Exhale

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm in the middle of a day of epic non-productivity myself.

Everyone knows about Rodney's epic manic phases; they've all had occasion to both witness them ( _not that crystal, for the love of -- give it, give it, give it -- yes, because I want us all to not die in the next half hour_ ) and benefit from them ( _we didn't die, did we? and you're welcome, by the way_ ). What escapes the knowledge of almost everybody on Atlantis, is the fact that Rodney's workaholic periods, spanning days or even stimulant-assisted weeks, are counterbalanced by equally impressive periods of utter inactivity.

"Have you moved in the last two days?" asks John, standing in the doorway of Rodney's quarters and surveying the damage.

"Hmm," answers Rodney vacantly from his cross-legged sprawl on his unmade bed. He's surrounded by dirty dishes and clothes, DVDs and papers covering every other inch of his mattress.

"What show are you mainlining this time?" John wonders, wading across the room towards Rodney.

Rodney waves a hand. "Some stupid -- I don't even know."

"Sounds fascinating." John stacks five cereal bowls together and starts gathering spoons. "Dropped by the lab this morning. I've never seen the scientists so happy. Apparently it's been forty-eight hours since anyone saw you."

"Shh," says Rodney. This close, John can smell that Rodney's at least showered recently, can see the place where his fine fluffy hair has dried in funny bedhead whorls, sticking to his neck and to the soft skin behind his ears. "No lab."

Three days ago, Rodney smelled like unwashed astrophysicist and couldn't keep his gaze focused on a person directly in front of him and seemed unaware of a universe outside the lab. Then he'd miraculously saved the city yet again, and he had staggered out of the labs towards his quarters, leaving a scent trail of BO behind him. John smiles in spite of himself, thinking that this behavior would be worrying if it were anyone but Rodney; but this is how Rodney recharges, with cereal and bad science fiction and three days of twice-daily showers and almost total isolation from the rest of humanity.

"I brought you more milk," John finally admits, nodding towards the box he'd left by the doorway on his way in. "Some pudding cups. Keller made me bring some apples and beef jerky too, so you don't get scurvy or die of anemia."

"Yeah," says Rodney, and hits the spacebar on his laptop to pause the show. He blinks, and just like that, he seems to notice that John's in the room. "Did I miss anything important?"

Rodney's missed two senior staff meetings and one departmental meeting, as well as the discovery of a way to modulate the city's shield to render it undetectable to Wraith sensors. He's missed four team meals in the cafeteria and the news that Ronon seems to have taken a liking to an anthropologist, the improbably-named Jersey Dettenheimer. He's missed Elizabeth getting a haircut and Teyla wearing their very favorite top, the one with the laces up the front, the one that John and Rodney bonded over when they discovered on one drunken offworld mission that they both loved it the most of all Teyla's low-cut tops.

"Nah," says John, and sits on the mattress where he's cleared a space for himself, leans into Rodney's shoulder. "Nothing important."

Nobody else knows about this, about Rodney's need to comfort himself with junk food and to replenish his brain with crappy television. John palms Rodney's knee, squeezes. "Tomorrow," Rodney says, half-apologizing. "I'll be back tomorrow, I just."

"I know," says John dismissively. He runs his hand up and cups Rodney through his sweatpants.

"Oh," says Rodney.

It's the last thing Rodney needs that no one else understands; John knows this when he feels Rodney's tired hand come to rest in gentle benediction on John's hair as John goes down. Rodney needs to remember that people are worth the effort, that people are more than abstract annoyances and obstacles to his brilliance.

"Yes, god. John."

Rodney needs this comfort, too, and John is the only one who can give it.

"That was," says Rodney when John lifts his head, breathing hard, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. He meets John's eyes for the first time. "I did it, though. I did it, right?"

"You did it," John assures him. "We all made it, thanks to you." He reaches up, holds onto the back of Rodney's neck, thumbs loose a couple of the little locks of hair clinging to Rodney's scrubbed-clean skin.

Rodney sighs with relief, as though he's been rewound two days and has only just rescued the city.

"Tomorrow," John echoes, and stands. "Don't forget to eat an apple."

"Yeah," says Rodney, wriggling back to rest on his cluttered bed, already half-asleep.

John hesitates by the door before dimming the lights, watching as Rodney drops into unconsciousness. He knows that for the rest of today, he'll carry this instant with him, this eerie and warm knowledge of Rodney sleeping, safe and quiet and mostly taped back together, helped to this place by John.

John allows himself a small smile, and leaves.


End file.
